You can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction

Monthly Archives: June 2016

I spend a lot of time in doctors and hospitals’ waiting rooms where people keep on talking to me despite of my book and earplugs (without mentioning my “why isn’t my glance killing you?”). Generally they are old people complaining about their diseases, funny how I often feel worse than them, but the most annoying peeps are those who resort to clichés. Same issues, same discussions where everybody is right and wrong at the same time, for there isn’t an universal truth, every opinion is valid. But people still like attacking or trying to prevaricate the others with their points of view and honestly this isn’t a conversation. I love talking to open minded people, no matter if their opinion is different from mine, we shouldn’t talk to people in order to have them changing their minds, but to enrich both viewpoints.

The aim of this post was another. At the doctor’s waiting room I met an old man who looked at me for a while and then frankly said me that I wasn’t happy. So I told him about my sickness, but he insisted that besides my health’s problems I wasn’t happy. That probably I was in love with another person and for odd reasons we weren’t together. I denied because it’s something difficult to explain. Same story why it’s hard to make people understand why I don’t move over from the abusive relationship I’m in. I was shocked that he might have understood me so well with a simple gaze and since he wasn’t there anymore when I came back from my visit, I think he was a sort of Angel or another entity. Hahaha, ok, I should stop watching AHS.

And, yeah, I know, I deserve to be treated like a Princess, loved and understood, supported and appreciated. But the sad story is that my Prince charming is committed to another person, as I am: maybe we will be together in another and happier life.

In my actual one I found another ginger addition, thanks Nialler for that. It’s Gavin James, a very talented Irish songwriter. Amazing voice and heart ripping lyrics. Enjoy.

I’d like to continue last post’s issue because it’s important to me. As I said, I consider arts as therapies, I feel better when I write or do something creative and I switch the world off whenever I listen to a song or I start a new book.

I’m currently unemployed due to my health conditions and it’s difficult to get some translations jobs to do from home, but I still think it’s important to invest the very little money I have in art. Here you can see my Wreck this journal when I haven’t started it already, whose motto is “to create is to destroy”. It’s a journal with some tasks you have to follow, tasks that really involve weirdest way to create, as “Rub here with dirt” or “Sew this page” because the aim of this journal is not having a beautiful perfect piece of art, but bringing out people’s creativity, overcome their limits or the fear of not doing well. That’s why, in my opinion, Keri Smith ironically dedicated it to perfectionists all over the world. I love this idea that the creative process is more important than the end product, so I shared it immediately. It will be very helpful to distract me from pain or depression (in the end social medias are frustrating, with all those people having fun or having a normal life) and it would be a good company during my hospital shit or in the doctors’ waiting room. I will share my progress (oh, how interesting, right?) posting finished pages here.

The song I chose for this post is inspired to one of Frida Khalo’s pieces of art. Chris Martin said in an interview that he christened this song and the album “Viva la Vida” after he saw the phrase on a painting by the Mexican artist. He explained: “She went through a lot of shit, of course, and then she started a big painting in her house that said ‘Viva la Vida.’ I just loved the boldness of it.”

So again, I’m back to JD’s question: why art? Because creating lifts souls, because any kind of art makes the world a better place to live in.

JD is probably working on an interesting social experiment and he launched the trend #WhyArt asking what art meant to people and telling everybody that it changed his life. I know him enough to know that he wasn’t pointing out the financial improvements, or the artists he hung with or the places he had the chances to visit thanks to his work. He was probably referring to how making music helped him to meet lots of different people, to know different cultures and way of thinking. I’m sure this helped him to grow both as a man and as an artist.

So what is art to me? First of all therapy no matter if I’m creating or enjoying it: it helps me to let out my feelings and emotions.

Second: any kind of art provides a temporary but necessary escape from my problems and from the madness of the world that lately seems sicker than ever. It is powerful since it can change moods and inspires people to make a deep search in themselves or face their feelings.

Third: art is the last form of magic left and makes me feel the beauty of freedom. I feel happy and free when I write, but also when I listen a good song, stare a painting or read a book.

So, to cut a long story short: art is what makes life awesome, and JD is a wonderful piece of art.

I’m experiencing one of the worst migraine episodes of my life. It’s like having something crushing my head like a lemon and no sleep or rest can mitigate it.

The worst thing about being sick is not pain, but the lack of independence, the lack of enjoying everyday things (even typing on the laptop is painful) and the difficulty in doing everyday’s tasks. It’s something that destroys you physically and psychologically. And people get easily tired of having around an always complaining human being so expect no compassion, above all from those who think “it’s all in your head”.

I haven’t been diagnosed yet, but the more I read about it, the more I identify my invisible illness with Fibromyalgia, a long-term condition that causes pain all over the body and that has some awesome friends I usually hang with, as

Extreme tiredness

Muscle stiffness and paresthesias

Troubled sleeping

Fibro-fog, a lovely confusion in your head that brings problems with memory and concentration.

Headaches

Fucked up stomach and bowel (I also have gluten intolerance)

I consider myself a fighter, I try to face everything, but it’s hard and sometimes I’m paranoid because I always fear to die. That’s why yesterday I molested all my best friends telling them I loved them, because, well, you never know.

I don’t know if and when I will get out of this shit, but when I have money, I want to tattoo, beside a triquetra, these lines from The Script: “every day, every hour, turn the pain into power”.

Yesterday I was walking and I found a crumbled sticker on the ground: it was from the collection every kid in my city is doing and I thought it was weird that a sticker that maybe would help someone to complete their album, is considered a waste from another.

And my mind wandered as usual. How many of us are prisoner of the wrong relationship, loving the person that isn’t meant for us, while the one that has our red string of fate tied to their pinky, is committed with the wrong person as well? Because there’s no worse feeling that finding the right one at the wrong time, or realising that we’re caged in a relationship that isn’t for us, that we are in love with someone else and we can’t get rid of the actual one.

I wish love was easier and that we could all find our significant other, the one fate destined to us. Mine is a very sad story for I’m into an abusive relationship with no way out.

But, luckily there still are happy couples, that restore my faith in love; we need to celebrate love, above all now that hate seems affecting every side of our lives. I never care about private lives of artists because, well, the word explains itself: “private”, but I want to make an exception congratulating Sandy and Shanna who celebrated their UK wedding on Saturday. They really spread true love, I hope that God will bless them with peace, content and joy from above. Have a happy family guys!

Ps. The bride and the groom were gorgeous, but some of the guests were splendid too, I was glad to see many of my favourite people reunited in this pic.

Here in Italy we use to say a lot that and “money can’t buy happiness”, that literally translated sound like ” money isn’t involved into happiness”.

This post is for dismantle this bullshit using my personal history. I have a weak heart and suffer many painful diseases. Some of them (gluten intollerance, hyatal ernia) are certain and I’m curing them, others have been diagnosed (severe anaemia), but I haven’t managed to cure them. And at last there are a lots of hidden diseases that affect my daily life, but that have still to be found and that I can resume as cronic pain or fibromyalgia.

So due to this, not only the quality of my life is very low (always in pain, can’t drive, can’t travel alone) and above all, I’m not able to work.

And here lies the trap: if I can’t work, I can’t earn the money to cure what doesn’t allow me to work. As you can see it’s an ouroboros, and honestly I’m done with that. It’s hard and frustrating living this way.

Money can’t buy happiness, but it helps you to have a happier and healthy life. I always say I have to be positive because I’m a fighter (through the fire) and I keep smiling because my friends and family don’t deserve an always depressed person around, someday life will get tired to upset me.

A few days ago I saw a video of a man complaining against women’s clothes sizes, his body was average and he said he wore a Medium. That T-shirt fitted perfectly to his wife who, instead, had to buy an XL in female clothing.

First of all big up to such a concerned husband whose aim was to point out how a wrong concept of sizes makes girls feel uncomfortable. Second, this confirm my theory: I have the same upper body size since I was 15, I have many T-shirts at my parent’s place from that lapse of time that still fit me perfectly and they’re an XS/S an Italian 40/42. So, how’s that possible that now I have to buy a Medium?

I went to one of those franchisees for young girls with a friend because a wanted to try on a nice pink shirt that was in theshowcase, but with the Small I could barely breathe, so I asked for a Medium. The shop assistant looked at me as if I asked for a dragon egg, then disappeared in the storage room and then came back saying in a disgusted voice “in THAT size we only have brown items”. As if to say ” you’re a fat whale who doesn’t deserve to wear cute colours”. Then she asked to my friend if she needed something and she answered laughing that she wanted a large, but that she’d better shut up”.

So, girls and women: don’t let a number or a letter define what you are. Don’t think you’re fat only because you wear a large: I weight 50kg and I wear a medium.